Thief of the Black Sand
by OC1926
Summary: Ever wonder how Pitch Black obtained the power of the black sand in the first place? Who's to say he didn't simply take it from a certain sorcerer?


Thief of the Black Sand

He should have been on his guard.

He should have known better than to let his nightmares overtake him.

Then again, who would have expected an all-out attack from the Nightmare King?

To be fair, a powerful man of sorcery, such as Mozenrath, would not have expected such a creature of fear to be real, let alone a fighter. He thought that the boogeyman was a simple tale to put naughty children to sleep; an apparition on their little minds to keep them from angering their parents.

But, no. Mozenrath now knows that fear has a name. And that name is Pitch Black.

At first, he came to Mozenrath through his paranoia. Even though he rules over a desolate kingdom such as the Land of the Black Sands, Mozenrath still felt the need to constantly look over his shoulder. Enemies could come to him at any moment, especially those of a lowly caliber as the street rat, Aladdin. One night, Mozenrath gazed boringly at his turntable, which displays all of the kingdoms of the Seven Deserts. His eyes are on the city of Agrabah. It's not exactly an interesting city, but wherever Aladdin or his loved ones are, that place is his first priority to crush under his power. His usual scheming was interrupted with a clash from behind him. He looks over to see a broken glass beaker on the floor. A mamluk was standing nearby with a look of surprise. Mozenrath scolded at the undead servant about being careful with his belongings. He turned back at the miniature city only to see little ghost people walking among it. This surprised him. Not for the fact that something magical was taking place in front of him, as magic is common throughout the Seven Deserts. But, surely he did not concoct this apparition.

One of the ghosts took on a familiar shape with a monkey on his shoulder. Aladdin looked up at the sorcerer, smiled his cocky smiles and wiggled his fingers in front of his nose. The monkey turned around and shook his bottom in a grotesque and mocking fashion. Enraged, Mozenrath brought his gloved fist up and slammed it upon the two ghosts, only for them to be vaporized on contact. After a few moments, he looked at the empty space and then to his gauntlet. He chuckles and shakes his head. He felt a little silly for letting such hallucinations get the better of him. Perhaps he needed sleep. After the many nights he had spent plotting, it was much deserved.

Mozenrath headed to his bedchamber and with a snap of his fingers, changed into nightclothes. He slipped under the cool sheets and began to fall into a deep sleep.

He never would have guessed that sleep would become his downfall.

His dream began with the usual pleasantness with Agrabah being in ruin. Black sand had been conjured to fill the once bustling streets. The beautiful blue sky had been replaced with the dark sand as well, turning an ordinary day into a bleak night. His greatest pleasure was not of his conquest, but of his greatest enemy being down on his knees. Mozenrath stood before him with an evil grin on his face. Aladdin begged him to restore his beloved city, telling him that he'll do anything. The sorcerer simply laughed and lifts him off the ground with more sand. The grains of black swirled tightly all around him, trapping him. Mozenrath relished in the sounds of him choking and gurgling in the darkness. He would suffocate him with his own power. This was how all of his dreams were.

Then, there was the intervention. The sand suddenly scattered into different directions. This was…uncommon. Before he could assess the situation enough, the sand soon revealed the cause. In place of Aladdin was a dark man in a long, black robe. His hair slicked to the back and his eyes shined like fire, fierce and unfeeling. His smile was the epitome of maliciousness with his sharp teeth and dark lips.

After the sand had fully dispersed under the mysterious figure's hand, the two stared each other down, each evaluating the other. Mozenrath, of course in need of answers, regained his composure and asked for the man's name. Pitch Black, he said. He asked for his in return.

Mozenrath gives the same introduction with his name along with him being the ruler of his uninhabited kingdom while giving a slight bow. Although, just like with the others, his bows were of patronizing intimidation, not of respectful greeting. He scoffed, asking what his newly-found acquaintance was supposed to be.

Pitch explained how he is the creator of nightmares and the lord of darkness. He explained how he has brought fear onto the living around the world using visions of their worst despair. To demonstrate he conjures the ghostly image of Aladdin that Mozenrath had seen before. This took him aback before his temper began to rise. So, this man…this creature was the one who brought about those nuisances? In his throne room, no less! He glared at the dark man and demanded that he leave.

Pitch looked at him snidely and told him that he'll only leave him alone if he gave him one thing: complete control of his black sand. Mozenrath laughed at him and told him that he'd never just give up his magic to likes of the boogeyman. Pitch smirks and told him that he'd only expect such a refusal from a child magician like him.

Mozenrath's eyebrows were raised before furrowing into anger. Before he could speak out in a furious passion, Pitch then brings upon a second image. Much to his horror, this one ended up being Destane, his former master. Only instead of him being a mamluk, this was Destane in the living flesh. That's impossible! He turned that wretch into his undead servant long ago! The ghostly Destane then charges at Mozenrath with rage on his face. The young sorcerer gasped and cringed before the image dissolved on impact.

Mozenrath slowly opened his eyes to see Pitch laughing at his expense. He glared and told him that it will take more than gimmicky optical tricks for him to give up. Pitch's grin widened. Without another word, he raced to Mozenrath and placed a hand on his forehead, taking the latter's mind into another state; a state of distant memories that he had longed to forget.

They consisted of the times when he was a young, innocent boy taken from his home by the scourge known as Destane. Little by little, he had changed his identity, first by his name and then by his view of the world, which he once thought was promising and full of light. Destane had made the boy, who he named Mozenrath, do all of his dirty work and was severely punished whenever a chore was done wrong. The whippings were terrible and even worse were the times when he'd be locked in a cell for any of his insolent outbursts. He'd spent all those sleepless nights keeping the rats that resided there from nibbling on his bruised skin. He remembered how Destane made the boy watch as he kept torturing Xerxes, Mozenrath's pet and only friend, for being a pest in the citadel of which he called home. Indeed, Destane was like a father to him; brute and full of power. If only he had the compassion and caring of one. When Mozenrath had finally obtained great power from the gauntlet he had come across in the lab, he had also obtained courage. In the end, Mozenrath's so-called 'betrayal' was his own master's fault.

All of the memories became his nightmares, but Pitch didn't stop there. Even with the sorcerer writhing and whimpering under his hand, it was still not enough. He decided to pull one last trick out of his sleeve. With a twirl of his wrist, Pitch brought about the furry little creatures that Mozenrath had come to fear long ago. He floated a few feet back and watched as his foe awakened and became startled at the sight of rats crawling all over his body. He couldn't feel them, but they are still there. Mozenrath tried to blast them off with his gauntlet, but to no avail. He figured that there was only one way to end this nightmare. He'd have to submit. He called out to the man of his surrender and Pitch waved away the ghostly creatures.

Mozenrath fell to the ground and sucked in as much air as he could. After pulling himself together with many deep breaths, Mozenrath noticed that his dark magic had left his body. This could only mean…he no longer had control of the black sand. He turned to the Nightmare King who was playfully twirling the sand around his hands. Mozenrath glared and asked why he didn't simply take his magic before if he knew he could in the first place. Pitch smirks again and tells him he'd like to have a little fun first. And so, Mozenrath's vision turns black.

* * *

Pitch floated outside of the citadel. He knew that Mozenrath would wake up and realize that his surrender was not at all a dream, making his life a living nightmare, which were always the best kinds. He looks at the black sand that formed in his hands, very pleased with himself. Until now, Pitch could only appear to children in dreams and bring about ghostly spirits. But, ghosts could not touch children, therefore, the visions quickly become old hat to each child. Now that he has the power of the black sand, his nightmares can take on physical forms.

Of course, it will take some time to fully master the magic, but that didn't matter to him. After all, fear lives on forever.

With the black sand, he sculpts a magnificent black horse to his image. Pitch smiles. Oh yes. There is much more fun to be had. He mounts on the horse nicely and turns his head to the citadel. Then he laughs maniacally, throwing his head back and rides off into the black, night sky.

**I do not own anything Disney or DreamWorks related.**


End file.
